


Of Life and Revelations

by Mystical_Artist



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Banter, M/M, Oblivious, So Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 21:23:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1279336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystical_Artist/pseuds/Mystical_Artist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shaw shrugged and gestured to Reese’s hand. “I don’t know. John here seems more interested in feeling you up.” </p>
<p>Reese quickly removed his hand from Harold’s shoulder and took a step back. </p>
<p>Finch glared at both of them. “Has the library suddenly become an elementary school? I wasn’t aware I was among children, but it seems that I was once again mistaken.” Both former agents guilty cleared their throats and looked away. “I thought so. Now, once again…”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Life and Revelations

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I managed to crank out another one. I was hoping to get something in the 5000+ word range, but that obviously didn't happen. Hopefully it's enjoyable nonetheless. 
> 
> Also, I hate coming up with titles. They're the worst.
> 
> Disclaimer: As always, these lovely characters aren't mine.

 

“While you were on your stakeout, we received another number, Mr. Reese,” Finch said, typing away at his desk. He paused and took a sip of his tea before he continued pulling information on their latest case.  
  


“You could have told me earlier, Finch. I would’ve come straight back,” Reese replied, obviously annoyed at being left out of the loop, even if only for a short while. Finch could hear the swoosh of cloth against metal in his ear as Reese cleaned his guns.  
  


Harold stopped typing and sat thoughtfully for a moment. “Yes, well, you need time to rest, too. And have the use of a proper restroom instead of a…empty water bottle,” he shuddered. He grabbed his nearby hand sanitizer at the thought and vigorously pumped it into his hands. John might not have a problem with such vulgar solutions, but the idea made Harold’s skin crawl in disgust.  
  


“What sort of person are we dealing with here? More interesting than the last one, I hope,” John asked with a yawn, which sounded like static through the earpiece.  
  


Finch brought up the newest information. “You could say that. Mr. Houser has made quite a name for himself with his business. He’s having his annual party for donors and high-ranking employees tonight, so I went ahead and added you to his guest list. Given how extensive the list is, I don’t think that will be a problem.”  
  


“Wouldn’t Shaw be better suited for this? She cleans up well,” Reese grumbled.  
  


“Not nearly as well as you,” Finch retorted. He walked over to the cabinet that had become a make-shift closet for all of them and grabbed a suit for John. “Besides, Miss Shaw and Bear are on an adventure of their own. You know, if you’d stop feeding him table scraps, she wouldn’t have to take him to the veterinarian…”  
  


John scoffed. “I’m not the only one who does it. I’ve seen those doughnut bits you’ve been giving him…”  
  


Harold harrumphed and draped the suit on the arm of the leather sofa. “Oh, I forgot to mention…You won’t need to worry about a bowtie this time. A simple necktie will suffice tonight. Tell me, Mr. Reese, blue or grey?” Finch held them in front of the suit and raised an eyebrow.  
  


“Blue?”  
  


The billionaire nodded. “Excellent choice. Now,” he placed the grey tie back in the closet, “how much do you remember about banking?”  
  


“Not much, honestly. Isn’t that more about looking the part, anyway?”  
  


Finch could practically _hear_ John’s smirk. “Perhaps you should let me handle the conversations then,” Harold replied haughtily, sitting back down at his desk.  
  


“Oh? I wasn’t aware I had a plus one for this event.”  
  


“You needn’t sound quite so smug. Harold Wren just so happens to be a _very_ generous donor for Mr. Houser, though they’ve never actually met. For security reasons, you understand,” Harold said, dismissively waving his hand.  
  


Reese ‘hmmed’ in response. “Wren’s made quite a name for himself lately. He’s becoming quite the social butterfly.”  
  


Finch leaned back in his chair. “Hardly, though he has been making the rounds, lately. Hopefully this goes smoother than our night at the museum a while back; though I’m afraid this event won’t be nearly as educational. I also see that they have quite the food palette, and I’m rather looking forward to sampling it.”  
  


“Good. I’m almost home, Finch. How much time do we have before we leave?”  
  


“It won’t begin until eight o’clock, so we have some time. Which is perfect actually, since your suit needs to be precise and I believe some alterations may be necessary,” Finch grabbed his measuring tape and a lint roller and placed them next to the suit on the sofa.  
  


Reese let out a snort. “Can’t wait, Harold.”  
  


Finch left the connection on and pondered when the library had become “home” for Reese. The idea made him smile softly.  
  


He sighed and began rubbing down the suit with the lint roller. They really needed to brush Bear more often…

 

\-----------------

 

“I guess you weren’t kidding when you said the guest list was extensive…” Reese murmured, standing protectively next to him. John’s hand automatically went towards his gun as a couple walked closely to them, but he quickly moved his hand to scratch at his back to hide the action.  
  


“I’m not a joking man, Mr. Reese,” Finch replied, taking a small sip of his champagne. He scanned the crowd and saw their target was talking with yet another woman. He clearly thought he was quite a catch for the ladies. Obviously, Harold thought, the man didn’t own a mirror.  
  


“If Shaw was here, she’d have shot him already.”  
  


Finch made a sound of agreement. “Well, I can’t say I would be disappointed at that action. He does not seem to be an admirable man.”  
  


Houser attempted to grope his female companion, who proceeded to smack him with her purse before walking away in a huff.  
  


Reese raised his eyebrows. “I can shoot him, if you’d like.”  
  


“I think someone might beat you to it at this point,” Finch turned to face him, “Do you see that man over by the window? He’s been staring at Mr. Houser for the past few minutes.”  
  


“Of course. He’s got a gun strapped to his ankle and a knife in his pocket,” Reese replied, not even sparing a glance towards the suspicious man.  
  


Finch stared at John, slightly flabbergasted. “Mr. Reese, if you knew all of this before why didn’t you do something about it?”  
  


Reese shrugged. “You’re my plus one, not him. It seemed rude to leave you, and besides, if he was going to shoot Houser he would have done it by now. I’ll go have a chat with him and neutralize the threat altogether.” He sauntered away and Finch saw him drag the man out to the balcony, cracking his fingers.  
  


In the meantime, Harold made a few phone calls. He knew just how to handle a man like Houser and it gave him great pleasure to take the man down.  
  


John returned a few moments later sporting a small cut on his hand, but otherwise unscathed. “Now, can we go before I actually shoot this guy?”  
  


Finch nodded and placed his phone back in his suit jacket. “Certainly. And it might interest you to know,” he said as they made their way to his car, “I took the liberty of emptying almost all of Mr. Houser’s bank accounts and registered him on the sex offender list. Detective Fusco was happy to assist me in that matter.”  
  


Reese held the passenger door open for him and Finch eased himself into the seat. “I’m proud of you, Finch.”  
  


“I learned from the best, you know,” he said as John closed the door and jogged over to the driver’s side. “Are you sure you want to leave so soon?  We spent a lot of time on those alterations, Mr. Reese.”  
  


Reese started the car. “Oh, I’m sure. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you enjoy altering my suits a little too much.”  
  


Finch looked at him smugly. “Perhaps.”

 

\-----------------

 

They both returned to the library the next morning after some much needed rest. Reese came in with a box of doughnuts and Bear whined with excitement when he saw them.  
  


“Feed him one and you’re a dead man, Reese,” Shaw said from the sofa where she was sprawled out with her legs up on the arm. “I’m not cleaning up that shit again.”  
  


“No? But you’re so good at it. Maybe you missed your calling,” Reese responded, handing Finch a doughnut with sprinkles. He took a powdered one for himself and set the box on Finch’s desk.

“Oh, one of my favorite kinds. Thank you, Mr. Reese,” Finch said, causing John to place a warm hand on his shoulder.  
  


“If I wanted to pick up shit all day, I’d just walk behind you with a dustpan,” Shaw smirked. She frowned and stood up when she wasn’t offered a treat. “I thought you liked the chocolate covered ones the best?”  
  


Finch paused mid-bite. “Like I said, it’s _one_ of my favorites. Now, shall we get started? The machine has sent us a new number.”  
  


Shaw shrugged and gestured to Reese’s hand. “I don’t know. John here seems more interested in feeling you up.”  
  


Reese quickly removed his hand from Harold’s shoulder and took a step back.  
  


Finch glared at both of them. “Has the library suddenly become an elementary school? I wasn’t aware I was among children, but it seems that I was once again mistaken.” Both former agents guilty cleared their throats and looked away. “I thought so. Now, once again…”  
  


Finch rattled off the newest information, but his mind was elsewhere. He grudgingly admitted to himself that he wished John had left his hand where it was. He was hesitant to admit that Shaw might be right, but he couldn’t deny that she had a valid point.  
  


He pretended not to notice when she stole the box of doughnuts as she left, and he certainly didn’t see when she snuck a few treats to Bear.  
  


The filthy hypocrite.

 

\-----------------

 

Reese and Shaw were currently spying on their latest number, a Mrs. Sheifa who appeared to be a former HR member. Finch sat at his monitors and hacked into the government’s database to track down what exactly had caused her number to come up.  
  


He quickly learned that she had embezzled thousands of dollars when she had been a cop. While she had been good at covering her tracks, Harold simply shook his head at her attempted cover up. The whole thing was completely ridiculous and he couldn’t believe no one had caught on sooner.   
  


“This number better not be as useless as the last few have been. Even Fusco could’ve handled those jokers without any backup,” Shaw grumbled to Reese. “I haven’t shot anyone in days.”  
  


Finch imagined John shrugging at the comment and wished that he had eyes on them instead of only audio. “It’s not like we can just leave them; this one might actually need our help. If you want to fire a gun that badly, maybe you should go to a firing range.”  
  


Shaw scoffed and Finch could hear a loud clanking of an old elevator. The two had apparently reached their designated building.  
  


“So, what’s the deal with you lately? Not that I care. Because I don’t,” Shaw said as her and Reese scoped the upper floors. Finch leaned closer to the computer as he listened intently.  
  


John was quiet for a few moments before he responded. “Wasn’t aware I was acting any different. Maybe I ate too many of Bear’s treats that you keep feeding him.”  
  


“Please, we all know you and Finch are way worse about that than I am. Bear’s the only reason I’m still here, so the last thing I’m going to do is kill the damn thing,” Shaw replied.  
  


Finch leaned back in his chair and looked at the canine. Bear was busily gnawing on a toy held between his paws and thumped his tail when he saw Finch watching him.  
  


There was a span of silence and Finch almost thought that he had been disconnected altogether, but Reese finally spoke moments later. “I wasn’t feeling him up this morning, you know.”  
  


Finch reached up and placed his hand on his shoulder at the memory as he listened.  
  


Shaw snorted. “Could’ve fooled me. You’re practically married.” Harold could hear the soft footfalls of her steps on the concrete floor. “It’s gross.”  
  


“Putting my hand on his shoulder hardly counts as that. It’s called a friendly gesture, Shaw. You should try it sometime.”  
  


Finch could hear a crunching sound and realized Shaw must be eating. Again. “I’m not putting my hands on you. I’ll leave that to Harold, since he’s the one who obviously wants to.” She took another bite of her snack. “The next time I have to hear about how you clean up better than me I’m going to strangle someone. I can work it when I want to.”  
  


“No one’s saying you can’t, Shaw. I think we both know if Finch tried to alter any of your outfits, you’d kill him.”  
  


“ _He’s_ the one who does that for you? I think I’m going to throw up. Isn’t that what tailors are for?”  
  


“Please, no one does precision like Finch. If you want it done right…” Reese trailed off.  
  


“Wait, are you actually w _earing_ it while he’s altering it? I thought that was just a bowtie thing. Sounds pretty hot.”  
  


The billionaire opened his mouth, ready to retort but then decided at the last moment to keep his response to himself. Nothing more was said until they reached Sheifa, and even then it was only Shaw getting pissed at John for not getting to shoot her.  
  


Finch simply waited at his desk for them to return while Bear took a nap, clearly worn out from chew time.  
  


He researched a number of nearby firing ranges and sent the addresses to Shaw’s phone, but questioned whether or not that was really a good idea. A content Shaw, he decided, was better than an angry one.  
  


The two agents walked in to the library shortly after that, and Bear quickly ran up to them with his tail wagging. Finch hid a smile when he went to Reese first.  
  


“Anything new?” Reese asked as Bear trotted over to Shaw to get some more attention. She scratched his ears and Bear flopped onto the floor for her to rub his belly.  
  


“No, it appears we may be done for the day. You two can take the rest of the day off, if you’d like,” Finch said, standing up and limping over to Reese.  
  


Shaw gave a nod of acknowledgement and walked out, grabbing a few extra guns and ammo from Reese’s arsenal. Bear whined at the sudden lack of attention and Shaw whistled for him. The canine went running after her with a happy bark.  
  


“You’re really sending her to a shooting range? I’m not sure if that’s the best idea…” Reese said, sitting down on the sofa.  
  


Finch sat down next to him. “Yes, well, she’s like you. She gets frustrated if she isn’t able to carry out her purpose. Her idea of a good time is just…very violent, that’s all.”  
  


Harold looked over to see Reese staring at his hands. “So you were listening earlier.”  
  


“We’ve been over this before, Mr. Reese. For better or worse, I’m always listening,” Finch said, adjusting his glasses. There were many situations that he was better off not hearing, but Reese rarely disconnected on his end, either. Harold wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.  
  


“She made a good point,” John murmured, finally turning his head to face Harold.  
  


“Yes, we all need to stop overdoing it on the dog treats,” Finch replied sarcastically. “Bear’s system isn’t meant for that sort of thing, and I’d rather not clean up another mess, either.”  
  


Reese gave him an unimpressed look. “That’s not what I meant, Harold. You know that.”  
  


Finch nodded reluctantly. “I know. I realize we don’t have the most conventional relationship, however, I’m not sure that we act like we’re _married_.”  
  


“Finch, you tailor my suits. We have a dog together. We go as each other’s plus one’s to different events. We go to the movies on our days off,” John rattled off, using his fingers to tick off each item. “We also both take unnecessary risks to save each other…”  
  


“I suppose buying you that apartment was a rather intimate gesture,” Finch added. He could name plenty of other instances where their relationship could be taken that way. He figured even _having_ this discussion would make that list…  
  


“As much as it pains me to say it, I think Shaw is right on this one,” Reese said softly.  
  


Harold sat quietly to take in everything. He glanced over to see John looking at him expectantly, and Finch reached over and lightly grasped his forearm. The taller man placed a calloused hand over his, his lips twitching slightly.  
  


“Would you care to join me for dinner? I was thinking you could wear that blue tie…It really does look excellent on you.”  
  


Reese raised his eyebrows. “Do you need to tailor another suit for me?”  
  


Finch shook his head and patted his arm. “No, but I can if you want me to, Mr. Reese.”  
  


John grinned at him. “Sounds great, Harold.”

**Author's Note:**

> Personally, I think the ending is kind of "blah", but I guess it could be worse, right?
> 
> Thoughts? Comments? As usual, feedback is much appreciated!


End file.
